Chicken Soup
by parttimeficwriter
Summary: Harry's not feeling well and Ruth steps up to nurse him better. Pure fluff.


**If you're not a fan of fluff, I wouldn't read this. This is fluff city.**

**Thanks Em.**

**This is for the Peas, for being as batty as I am. Heart you both :)**

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"Achoo."

The violent sneeze was accompanied by a groan and Harry held his head between both hands, trying to minimise the pain as his brain felt like it rattled from one side of his skull to the other. He was still clutching his head, elbows braced against the desk for support, when Ruth walked in ten minutes later. She had walked half way to his desk before it registered that he hadn't looked up. Clutching her files close to her chest, she tilted her head to one side, calling to him softly.

"Harry?" As he struggled to raise his head, she noticed how pale and sweaty he looked. "Oh Harry, you look dreadful. I really think you should be at home in bed."

She was surprised when he nodded in agreement and her heart melted at the sight of him. He looked so lost and sorry for himself that she couldn't resist closing the distance between them and placing a cool hand on his clammy forehead.

"You have a bit of a temperature." Absently, one finger trailed down the side of his face and along his cheek. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Fifteen minutes later, she drove them out of the underground car park, weaving effortlessly through the City traffic. It was a testament to how ill he was that he had not only handed over the keys to his car without any preamble, but had not offered any directional tips: the latter had resulted in good natured bickering the last time she had driven them through the City. As they queued in the early morning traffic, she glanced over to check on him, only to find that he had nodded off. His features softened in sleep making him look boyishly handsome. She stifled a giggle as she heard the first in a series of soft snores escape him, shaking her head at herself and moving her eyes back to the road.

He was still sleeping as they pulled up in front of his house and she guiltily indulged in watching him for a few moments before softly calling his name.

A pair of sleepy brown eyes eventually met hers and she couldn't help but smile at him. "Let's get you inside."

He followed her out of the car and into the house, brushing past her in the hallway and walking slowly up the stairs as she faffed about taking her shoes off and hanging up her coat. She was halfway up the stairs before it registered that she was about to follow him into his bedroom. She stopped mid-step, chewing on her bottom lip as she decided what to do. Whilst she was aware he was a grown man and more than capable of looking after himself, he was ill and she felt an over whelming need to make sure that he was alright. It was perhaps crossing the line between friendship and something more than that, but she reasoned that it was always nice to be looked after when you were ill. Mind made up, she climbed the remaining stairs and hovered nervously outside the open door to what she assumed was his bedroom, as she called out to him.

"In here Ruth." He sounded tired and she walked through the door to find him sat on the edge of the bed, tie half off and tugging at his shoes with his feet.

"I'll let you get ready for bed and I'll, um, find you some medicine if you tell me where you keep it?"

"In the kitchen, there should be something in the cupboard above the fridge," he muttered as he still struggled with his shoes.

Taking pity on him, she moved to kneel in front of him and unfastened his shoes for him, placing them neatly at the side of the bed before looking up to find him watching her. A slight tinge of pink seeped into her cheeks as their eyes met, which deepened as she asked him where his pyjamas were.

"I, um, well I don't normally wear them." It was his turn to be embarrassed, a slight hint of colour in his face despite his paleness. "There should be some blue ones somewhere in that bottom drawer."

She busied herself with searching for the pyjamas, desperately trying to banish the thoughts that surfaced about what he did actually sleep in. Already, she had pictured him in boxers and a t-shirt and was beginning to feel decidedly warm; she resolutely refused to follow the train of thought that led to images of him naked in between the fine cotton sheets. Anxious to get a little space and regain her composure, she let out a little yelp of triumph, dragged the midnight blue cotton pyjamas from the drawer and handed them to him.

"I'll just go and...well, I'll let you get undressed, erm, I mean changed," she garbled, whilst backing out of the bedroom.

Downstairs, she busied herself preparing a tray with glasses of juice and water on, remembering that keeping hydrated was a key to getting better. She found the appropriate tablets in with his copious amounts of medical supplies, noticing a few bottles of prescription pain killers that didn't seem to have been used much.

"Stubborn old fool," she muttered, as she realised the significance of the dates on the bottles.

Finally, she filled a small bowl with cool water and placed it on the tray, before heading cautiously out of the kitchen with her load. She called ahead and warned him of her presence and entered the bedroom when he didn't make an objection. He had barely moved since she left, granted the pyjamas were now on and his clothes were in a heap beside him, but as she looked closely she could see he had struggled with the buttons and was sat there still trying to figure out where he had gone wrong. He was completely adorable in his befuddled state and she had placed the tray on the bedside cabinet and covered his fumbling hands with her own before she had realised she had moved. His hands stilled and fell away as he allowed her to rearrange the haphazardly fastened buttons. Ruth concentrated on the task in hand, trying not to notice that he was gazing at her softly or that her hands started to tremble as a result.

"Thanks," he whispered to her, as she finished her task and moved back to the bedside cabinet.

She nodded and gave him a slightly shy smile. "Here, take these." She passed him the pills and the glass of water, watching him carefully to make sure that he took them. "I'll be back in a second. Get into bed, Harry."

He climbed into bed and shivered as the cold sheets covered him: the small movement had taken a lot of effort on his part and he was starting to sweat again despite feeling cold. He shivered violently as he lay back against the pillows and desperately tried to keep warm. She returned to find him in this miserable state and helped pull the covers up to his chin before sitting down beside him on the bed and tenderly mopping his forehead with the damp flannel she had retrieved from the bathroom. She tended to him silently, concentrating on helping to bring the fever down. A soft sigh escaped him and she saw that he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Don't fight it Harry, get some rest. It'll help."

She placed the flannel on the tray beside them, ensured he was comfortable and allowed herself a moment to watch him. He stirred as she moved off the bed, and mumbled her name.

"Sshhh, I'll be downstairs if you need me."

Unable to resist, she smoothed the backs of her fingers down his cheek before leaning in and placing a light kiss to his forehead. The guilty pleasure of kissing him consumed her thoughts as she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen. Having cleared the tray and made a cup of tea, she realised that she could no longer avoid calling the Grid to let them know where both she and Harry were. She paced the sanded floor of the kitchen as the call connected, frantically trying to think of what to say and berating herself for not having thought it through before she dialled.

"Adam, i-it's me, Ruth."

"Ah, I was wondering where you were."

"Erm, well I'm at Harry's house."

"Harry's?" There was a definite note of interest in his voice and she winced at it.

"He has the flu and the silly man came into work this morning. Anyway, I brought him home, so that's why I'm here." She decided to leave out the part where she had helped him into bed, not wanting to fuel Adam's imagination any further.

"So when can we expect you back?"

"T-the thing is, he has quite a temperature, so I'm going to hang around for a while a-and make sure that he's ok. I thought that I could work from his study. I mean he has a secure connection to the network so that's no problem, is it? And Malcolm could send over any software I needed, so, um, I'm n-not coming back really..."

She chewed her lip nervously as Adam let a silence linger after her little speech. "The first sign of trouble today and you're expected back here, ok?"

"Understood. Thanks Adam." She ended the call and sighed in relief. At least he hadn't asked too many awkward questions, although a small part of her accepted that he was probably just biding his time.

---

It had been strange, at first working, from his study. The room was so definitely Harry and, every time she leant back in the chair, she caught a whiff of his aftershave which did little to help her concentration. She felt slightly guilty for being in there without permission, especially as her keen eyes roamed over every surface trying to learn more about him. With all this going on and with a small fluffy dog brushing against her legs every five minutes in the hope that she would fuss over it, it was a wonder that she managed to do any work at all. By lunch time she had adjusted to her new surroundings and was engrossed in translating e-mails that had been intercepted from the Russian ambassador.

"So there is where you snuck off to." The sleep roughened voice that travelled from the doorway startled her so much that the pen she was chewing on fell from her mouth.

"Harry! I didn't hear you get up, you should be in bed." She stood hastily and almost tripped over the dog as she walked towards him.

"I was in bed. Where did you go?"

"I left so you could rest. How're you feeling?" He caught her wrist in his palm as she tried to feel his forehead and, as he pulled her towards him, she was hit by the blinding realisation that he wasn't quite as lucid as she had thought.

"Better now I found you." His whispered words sent shivers down her spine and, whilst part of her knew he wasn't fully aware of what he was doing, the other part told her to shut up and enjoy the moment. Reluctantly, she pulled herself from his embrace and ushered him out of the study and across the hall to his bedroom.

"You're not well Harry, you need to go back to sleep." Grasping his arm she steered him towards the unmade bed, pushing him towards the mattress and nodding encouragingly as he climbed back under the covers.

"Aren't you going to stay with me?" He pouted at her and his chocolate brown eyes pleaded with her.

"I'll stay until you fall asleep."

His smile was triumphant as she eased herself to sit on the edge of the bed, smiling despite shaking her head at him.

---

They grey day was becoming darker as Harry finally stirred from his slumber. He hesitantly sat himself up in bed and was pleased to find that, whilst he ached, he was feeling a bit better. Spying the fruit juice on the nightstand, he greedily drank it down in one go, only wondering how it got there as he replaced the empty glass. He had a vague recollection of Ruth driving him home and smiled to himself as he thought about how kind she had been to him. He made a mental note to find a special way to thank her, before mustering the energy he needed to climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom. He was halfway across the landing, mid-stretch, when Ruth appeared from his study, making him jump.

"Harry, is everything ok?"

"Jesus Ruth, you scared me to death!" he stated, as he clutched a hand to his pounding heart. "I didn't realise you were still here."

She swallowed her disappointment that he wasn't quite as pleased to see her as he had been earlier in the afternoon. "You were pretty out of it a-and I wanted to make sure that your fever broke. I-I didn't mean to make you jump."

"No harm done. I was just going to the bathroom."

"Oh! Right, no problem. I'll, um, make you something to eat and then I'll get off then."

She was halfway down the stairs before he could reply and, truth be told, he _was_ hungry now that he thought about it. He wasn't sure if she expected him to go downstairs for the food or not, but took a chance that she would call him down if that was the case and headed to the bathroom before making his way back to bed. He was propped up against the pillows, reading, when she arrived with the tray of food. The smell of the chicken soup was making his mouth water and he happily threw his book to one side as she placed the tray next to him.

She fiddled nervously with the ring on her finger as she spoke to him. "I'll, um, I'll be off then...will you be ok?"

He paused with the spoon half way to his lips. "Oh, I thought you'd be eating too."

A pleasant thrill went through her at his words. "I didn't want to be presumptuous."

That made him smile. "Ruth, not only were you working in my private study all day, but from what vague recollections I have, you put me to bed. I think you can sit and eat some soup with me."

She flushed at his words and at the memories of what else had happened between them earlier that afternoon. Without meeting his eye, she muttered something about fetching another bowl of soup and made a hasty retreat from his ever watchful eyes. He was slightly puzzled by her reaction and was struck by the terrible thought that perhaps he may have done something to upset her.

She returned and sat herself down on the chair to the right hand side of his bed, quietly eating her soup in between casting him furtive glances.

"Ruth, did I do something wrong?"

"W-wrong? Erm, no. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you've gone all quiet on me. Much quieter than normal and you won't look at me. It's chicken soup, Ruth; it can't be that interesting to look at!"

The spoon made a clanging sound as she put it down and lifted her gaze to meet his. "That better?"

His eyebrow rose slightly at the tone of her voice and he was certain something had happened. "It's a start." He sneezed violently and they were both reminded he wasn't in much of a state to be fighting with her. "Please tell me what I did. I can't stand the thought of upsetting you Ruth."

"I'm not upset Harry." Her raised finger stopped him from objecting. "I'm _really_ not. I just, well, something happened when you woke up earlier and actually I liked it. I don't think I should have done though because really you were in no fit state and I, I..."

"You what, Ruth?" he asked gently, suddenly worried at the distraught look on her face.

"I took advantage of you." He sensed the shame in her words and tried to piece together how exactly she could take advantage of him. Certainly, in his mind, there were a number of things which fell into the category of taking advantage, and he knew without a doubt that he would be more than willing to do any one of them with her. He was dragged from his thoughts by her rambling explanation. "I was in the study and you had woken up and come looking for me. You were confused and I think you might have been delirious or dreaming and, when you hugged me, I let you..."

She trailed off, not sure how to articulate why she had done it without also ending up telling him that she was so overwhelmed by the feel of his arms around her that she didn't have the strength to resist.

"I thought I'd dreamt that."

Her eyes widened. "You remember?"

"Yes, and you have nothing to worry about, Ruth. I don't think you took advantage of me at all. If anything, I'm the one who shouldn't have touched you."

"No, Harry! You were ill and had no idea what was happening."

"You liked it."

Her surprise at his change in direction conversation was evident. "What?"

"You said you liked it. When I hugged you."

"Erm, well yes, yes I did like it. It was n-nice and despite the slight clamminess you smelt all Harry-ish."

He was amused. "Harry-ish?"

"Yes."

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he watched her fidget in the chair opposite. "I'm not sure how to take that. Here I am, at death's door and the nicest thing you can say is that I smell like me!"

"It's a very nice scent Harry, and you're hardly at death's door!"

"If I was, would you grant me a last request?"

"It depends on the request..." Her heat beat furiously in her chest as he gazed at her. She swallowed nervously as he drew the moment out. Her palms were suddenly sweaty and she wiped them on her trousers, gripping her legs as she waited for him to speak.

"A kiss." She bit her lip to stop from gasping, and he wanted to sooth over the mark with his tongue.

She nodded and hesitantly moved closer to where he lay on the bed. Her face hovered inches from his, so close he could feel her breath against his mouth. "Just in case I'm wrong..." Her words tickled his lips seconds before her soft mouth covered his and she kissed him, tenderly.

As their mouths fused together, his tongue flickered lightly over her, teasing licks of her lower lip then her upper one before he took advantage of her mouth opening and exploring it intently. Somewhere in the midst of the kiss, she had ended up on the bed and tangled between him and the sheets. Breathlessly, she pulled out of the kiss only for him to weave his fingers through her hair and pull her back towards him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he murmured, in between small kisses and nibbles to her lower lip.

"I don't want..." a soft sigh escaped as he sucked on her top lip, "to catch your cold!"

"Too late for that, I'd imagine," he whispered, then kissed her again, softly. "Don't worry, I'm sure I'd be able to make you feel better."

As he felt her gentle laughter against his lips, he tried to remember where he'd put the vapour rub...it was bound to come in handy.

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**A review would make me very happy.**


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